


Silence

by spotofpurple



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: First Larry Fic, M/M, bullshit tweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 09:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spotofpurple/pseuds/spotofpurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trees are the color of warmth and magic.He sits beneath an oak tree, listening to the sharp sound of the leaves wounded and bleeding above and he remembers, not so long ago, he learned about Greek mythology and the rustling in the oak trees as a sign of Zeus’ will to address humanity.</p>
<p>Or: That “bullshit” tweet and my crazy theory of what could have happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

It begins to end after the VMA’s, when Liam of all people decides to be coy and secretive and gather all the boys in London when the whole world thought most of them were somewhere else.

It begins to end when Liam, Zayn and Niall show up on their doorstep, with dark hoodies and sunglasses that are absurd and ridiculous so it’s a wonder nobody picked up on them.

“Weren’t you on a family vacation in Florida, Liam?!”, seeps out of Harry’s mouth, because yes, he has just woken up and last night was the first in a while when he could make love to his own boyfriend in their own home, so excuse him for being a bit blatant.

Liam explains: he left Florida three days earlier than he was supposed to, after talking to Zayn (who limped into the house like a klutz that he is and promptly refused once again to explain what the hell happened to his leg). They decided that 1D should go on a vacation, the 5 of them together, which was the reason Liam smuggled himself to London and Zayn and Niall were very inconspicuous and vague when asked where were they going for three days. All they had, just three days, but Harry was already ecstatic, because it meant the bungalow and his best friends and Louis… Old times.

Louis came back to London a day earlier from his vacation with Eleanor, secretly and barely making it past the fans, but it was just pure happiness to shelter them both away from nosy girlfriends and public image under their cocoon of blankets.

Who could it possibly hurt? Liam’s family was alright with it, Zayn’s leg didn’t hurt as much, Niall had the birthday game all planned out already and Louis performed the last act in the latest play as the prefect boyfriend a day ago, so all Harry had to do was phone his mum and then Nick, to cover for him with silly tweets and mentions of parties which he will not attend.

Just three days, right?

So they went, all together and very much like they were the last time they did this, when they weren’t as big as they are now, and that kind of reminds them that they haven’t grown at all, it’s just that the world has grown around them.

For a day it’s perfect. Then, Harry goes for a walk and when he comes back, Louis is gone, without a goodbye, went back to London. Eleanor called, Liam tells him. She begged him to come and he was good and kind, and so, so in love, that he did.

So that is how it begins to end.

***

 

The trees are the color of warmth and magic.

He sits beneath an oak tree, listening to the sharp sound of the leaves wounded and bleeding above and he remembers, not so long ago, he learned about Greek mythology and the rustling in the oak trees as a sign of Zeus’ will to address humanity. He listens carefully, intent on tricking the sound itself into appearing apparent in his ears, but nothing happens. Silence rules and Harry doesn’t stand it, because it reminds him of the lack of music, which would be logical. Yet, you never notice it until the beat is gone. The forest is the same as it always was in autumn, and maybe it really is true that nothing changes in the world except the people living in it, stuck in a cycle and terrified that it will end before they get to love and be happy. Harry knows that, he has even partly accepted it, because, in the great scheme of things, he was happy and he loves still, even after happiness.

Louis left two days ago. There is so much peace and serenity that you can squeeze out of a vodka bottle before it becomes too much and “never enough” returns like a bloodthirsty beast to claw at your chest. Louis left, and it wasn’t for the first time either, but this time it was one tome too many and well… all fools learn eventually.

He went out for a walk that morning in these old clothes that smell of old, younger Harry and home, and it was easy to imagine being a speck of dust in the glittering dawn of the bleeding forest, so he does. And if he doesn’t become a speck at all, but remains a boy, trapped in a body that he hears is grown up now, a clumsy, dreamy boy that trips on a root and peels of the skin on his knee, well, that is an unfortunate occurrence. He sits beneath the oak, and watches the tiny droplets of blood soak the fabric of his worn out jeans and he is distantly aware that he should know how to flinch away from the pain (and isn’t that the root of all problems, ironically).

***

Back at the bungalow, Zayn and Niall are still giggling over their old tour photographs and a pile of fan letters is considerably smaller then it was that morning, when Harry walked past it. Liam is coated in kindness and concern when he approaches Harry, lightly touching his shoulder and then gasping softly when he sees the dried blood on his soaked jeans. He pulls Harry to the kitchen and gets the alcohol from the cupboard to clean the wound. When he dabs at it, Harry nudges him and takes the cloth in his own hands and starts cleaning it, grinning all the while.

“What?”, Liam asks but he gets no answer, because Harry just keeps smiling. Liam loves it when Harry smiles, so he keeps quiet and doesn’t say anything else. Harry doesn’t stop smiling that day, and Liam is happy, because it’s been a long while, so he misses the worried glances Niall keeps sending Harry’s way.

“Smiley Styles” is what Liam calls him and then he tries to forget. Firstly, that the mask slipped for a second, but that it was a whole second regardless, and secondly, that he didn’t know how to survive secondhand heartbreak from two of his brothers.

Like a well-kept secret, Louis’ hoodie and beanie remain stuffed under Harry’s mattress, from where he takes them and curls around the fabric at night, trying to miss less and managing only to hurt more. If Zayn sees him that night, he never says anything, because they are all going home tomorrow anyway, and it never bothered anyone that Louis left a few days earlier because El had a knack for skipping classes and planning “unplanned” shopping trips with him. Zayn tries to forget the kiss which he witnessed the first time they were in the bungalows, when they barely knew each other and Louis was clawing at Harry’s skin like he can only be satisfied if he moves right in there with Harry and they end up breathing not only the same air, but with the same lungs. Just to make matters easier on himself, Zayn convinces his disobedient mind that what he saw then wasn’t true love, and that what he sees now isn’t utter heartbreak.

 

***

Louis ignores the pang of longing that overtakes him when he passes Harry’s bags in their living room the following day. He knows he came back with the boys and he also knows that Harry is either pissed at him for leaving their band vacation on Eleanor’s (of all the people!) whim or he has laughed it off, but either way, in a few days, everything will be fine and he and Harry will kiss and cuddle over a re-run of Friends.

But nothing is what it should be, because Harry isn’t in the apartment and that is strange in itself, because surely Harry would stick around, to scream at him at least, and he must know that Louis went out for a coffee with Eleanor and that he will be home soon, waiting to explain. He could have waited for Louis to get back home. Harry would understand that he had to leave, that he had to keep that crazy girl happy and satisfied, or their secret fortress would crumble all around them. He must know that Louis is doing this for him, even if he is fucking it up along the way, it is still for Harry and that innocent, brave smile he used to wake up with.

Eleanor calls him to let him know she arrived home safely, and Louis can’t believe how easy it is to pretend like you love someone, and how easy a girl can trust you, just because she so desperately wants to. No, he is not playing with her, because she knows the truth, but she also fell in love with Louis, which is the first thing that went wrong. The second one being that she knows, she bloody knows who Louis is trying to protect with this charade, and she knows how to manipulate too, which is the point where everything not just went wrong, but also a crazy web of lies.

“All with good intention…”, Louis convinces himself, but he slips on his own logic and falls in a big pile of you-left-your-friends-and-your-boyfriend-because-of-her and what the bloody hell are you protecting here Louis?!

Because somewhere deep down, he knows why Harry didn’t wait for him, as much as he knows why he didn’t simply call Harry and explained it to him as soon as he had to go back to London. He knows, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Bravery is sometimes the hardest thing to achieve.

***

There is this show and after it the after-party and it should go on until the morning, so Harry doesn’t even notice that he has been gone for the entire night of drinking and dancing and grinding against strangers. What he does notice though is that he took Louis’ phone with him by mistake, and if that isn’t proof of their domestic idiocy, he doesn’t know what is. It almost makes him smile, but then he remembers that Louis wasn’t home when Harry got home, and Harry got home after Louis left him on their vacation, and that almost makes him cry. He doesn’t though, just drowns everything in alcohol.

He is drunk when he tells Nick what happened. Grimmy nods his head and smiles sadly, says that keeping a relationship a secret isn’t easy and that it’s possible that Harry didn’t understand something correctly, but even he knows it’s a lame excuse.

Harry is more drunk when he fishes out the phone from his pocket and automatic log in to Twitter is the nearest tab, so he touches the screen and watches it loading. He doesn’t know why he is doing this, maybe because he is jealous and wants to know how fucking in love is his boyfriend with his… girlfriend, or maybe it’s not that at all. He doesn’t consider it to be a big deal, because Louis knows his password, and he knows Louis’ (of course).

He messes around on the account for a good of 15 minutes, types in “Larry Stylinson” just to rub the salt from those tequila shots a little deeper still and then he finds it. It’s some girl, tweeting about “never denying Larry” and Harry fucking loses it. He types from spite and anger and this…this is rage really. The worst thing is, when he hits send, the “bullshit” keeps resonating around his head and, to stop the guilty, bitter tears, the screams of what the fuck did he just say, because how the hell can THAT ever be…

He types and types, a bit of this and that, voicing Louis’ true voice now, after he voiced what he hopes, needs to be the last thing Louis would ever say or type. Maybe somehow they did manage to become one person, because Harry’s fingers touch the letters and what comes out is Louis’ hurt, angry, bitchy sass, about his family and annoying fans who pay no mind to what they actually type. Harry’s anger, the messed up mixture of alcohol, denial and forced smiles, that anger is below, boiling and heating his intoxicated mind.

He doesn’t remember, maybe he passes out, but the phone never leaves his hand, even after he logged off and simply starred at the screen, embracing the dark with it.

***

Louis doesn’t dare call, doesn’t dare anything until he is bored, so picks up Harry’s bag and looks inside. And there is a pair of jeans at the top, shoved inside carelessly. It is ripped on one knee, and it’s bloody. Louis just stares and then it hits him, in what state did he leave that stupid, vulnerable boy and he didn’t even call…

So he runs to the table in the living room on which he remembers leaving his phone before he went out, the same place where both he and Harry leave their phones. He sees only Harry’s there and it takes him a second to get it, but then he is dialing his own number (of course, there is something ironically them about this). Harry doesn’t pick up, and yes, Louis doesn’t freak out much, because he knows Liam would never let Harry move if he was seriously hurt, but still.

The fans, he figures, are his best guess, because they always seem to know where the boys are, at least in London. He logs on to Twitter (he shakes his head when he sees it, because Harry is the only one in the band who actually bothers signing off on his own phone).

He knows something is wrong as soon as he sees a flood of messages to him, hurt and hurtful both and he scrolls down to his own mentions and still doesn’t get it and then…

He stares at a screenshot of his own tweet, apparently his own tweet, but that must be photo shopped, because he would never, not in a million years…

His world goes partially dark when he gets why. And what isn’t dark is screaming away in blood red.

 

***

Nick just left his apartment, Harry knows that by the careless slam of the door and he shakes his head on the pillow. He knows he was way too drunk last night, and he knows Nick dragged him to his own apartment because Harry screamed that he doesn’t want to see Louis. He frankly doesn’t know how to see him anymore.

He scrambles of the bed in the guest room and stumbles into the living room. Where, apparently, Nick hasn’t left at all, because he is standing cold still and staring in shock at Louis, who apparently slammed the door. He is fuming, clenched fists and blood-shoot eyes and tear tracks down his cheeks and he flings himself at Nick before Harry can even think about what the hell is he doing here.

Nick is sober, well rested and didn’t cry the whole night, because he can avoid that desperate punch, grab Louis by the forearms and slam him into the couch. For a split second he looks like he is the one throwing the next punch, but that is when Harry sobers and shouts.

Nick gets up from the couch himself, turns around and just looks at Harry. He seems to be searching for something in his eyes and then he is picking Louis up and pushing him towards Harry.

“I have to go.”, he says and leaves in an act of calm, when Harry knows that he is anything but, because someone just tried to punch him in his own home.

Louis simply stares at Harry, then shows that one thing that Harry always felt but never knew how to ask about. He gets jealous.

“You and him?! Bullshit Harry?!”, he says and his voice breaks at the third word, like it’s some sort of blasphemy.

Harry flinches away from that, because, really?

“ I slept here because I didn’t want to go home. Nothing happened between me and Nick.” , he says.

Louis keeps staring at him, like he totally missed the point, which he did. He keeps quiet.

It lasts for a while. Both of them looking at each other, resembling a movie scene where perfect lovers break up and something in the metaphor chills Harry to the bones. He doesn’t want to let Louis go, even if Louis has let him go, because by letting go, he really, really ends it.

“You… You think you and me are bullshit?! You and me, Louis and Harry, like… like we are… You don’t have that right Harry. You don’t, damn it, you don’t!”, Louis eventually shouts.

Harry keeps staring, because what?

“ I left for you?! Every time I leave you, I leave so that I could keep everybody’s mouth shut. I put up with her so that nobody notices anything, because they always keep telling me that if something happened, hypothetically of course, if somebody found out about something that’s not… I…”, he stutters, and Harry really doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“It will all fall apart. That’s what everybody always says. So I try and try, but you… It’s not worthless!”, Louis breaths out and sinks back to the couch, pulling his fingers through his hair and yanking hard.

Harry thinks of stopping him, but he doesn’t.

“It is worthless to you if you can leave me just like that. And not even call. Because she asked you to. Comparing to what you have with her, it is worthless, so why should you keep on pretending then, huh? How is it not bullshit, then, huh?”

Louis lifts his eyes slowly, brokenly and all that’s going through Harry’s head is that, in spite of his words, he desperately doesn’t want for this to end.

“I didn’t go anywhere to indulge her, I went to protect you. And yes, I didn’t call, because I didn’t know what to say over the phone. But not… what the fuck were you doing Harry? I get it, you are angry, then yell, scream, anything, just don’t go and break up with me over a tweet. And if you posting as me meant that you think I would do that, then really… I am trying to keep you. Not let you go.”

“Well, you’re fucking up at it! And I was drunk last night. It made sense.”, but the words are vain and silly and childish.

Louis smiles into his hands. Harry doesn’t see it, but he knows it, and that kills. And also brings back to life, so make of it what you will.

“You are serious? You are fucking up this much because you think that’s better for me? Really?”, he asks.

Louis shakes, nods and again shakes his head.

“ I was trying to keep us normal and safe and they all asked of me to go out with her, and I did, but then she asked for too much, all the time, and I snapped. And she said… She said it’s a role that I have to keep playing, or everything will go to hell. It was a threat Harry. What was I supposed to do? And don’t tell me I should’ve told you, because what use would it be?”

“Well, first off, you wouldn’t get me mad enough to make half of our fans hate you, you idiot.”

***

It gets better, after that, at least a little bit. Harry doubts, Louis panics, but there is that place they both call home and it really gets easier, at least. Louis doesn’t stop pretending, but Harry starts believing that it really is for their good.

The end of the silence if different than the beginning of the end, lacking despair and doubt. And sometimes, if he listens, but only on Louis’ chest, Harry hears the rustling of the oak leaves. The lack of silence is comforting, because you really can share a skin, and after the first, many layers more. But never in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely fictional and somewhat unrealistic and basically a bunch of feeling poured out to a keyboard, which is why it is jumbled up and a general mess, so sorry in advance. I needed to went, so I did :-) First Larry fanfic written, so awaiting comments and all, and hope you enjoy!


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